Chapitre 19: Plots & Plans Part 2
Celeste
Our plans to topple Oriana from her tainted throne progressed swiftly over the following weeks. I employed my new freedom to travel the castle practically unfettered while under Caspian's watchful eyes. We suffered many sleepless nights discreetly investigating secret passages and insecure stronghold points that might allow us access to the Oriana's food or drink.
My maid, Thalia, became an unwitting accomplice in subtly prying court gossip from the servants. A few, seemingly unobtrusive questions during bathing or dressing opened her mouth easily. Slowly, a strategy took shape to catch the vampire queen vulnerable to the toxic elixir I still guarded night and day.
"Hmm, the wine was different at dinner last night," I said casually as Thalia scrubbed my back as if her eternal life depended on removing every dead skin cell from my body. Maybe it did?
"Desdemona told me Roluf, the vintner, ran out of the Queen's favorite blood," my maid shared in a hushed tone. "Word is, they bled her so far that she died. The queen was livid. I heard Roluf wasn't just banned from the castle, but well…"
I feigned shock. Caspian and I had heard about the vintner's horrible fate the day before. The torture he went through before they finally took his head and ended his misery made me shudder to think about. Thalia took it as a sign I was cold and made the water warmer with her finger. The magics the various vampires had still confused me. They shouldn't have any other than the standard mesmerizing of humans that everyone knew about.
"Anyway, to get on her good side, Samuel, the new vintner, presented her with a new gold chalice yesterday. It's covered in rubies and obsidian." The girl gave a little sigh. "It's beautiful! I also heard that Queen Oriana loves it so much that she assigned a single servant, Melonie, to do nothing but make sure the goblet is cleaned and polished at all times just in case her majesty wants a drink! She's declared no other cup is good enough."
This tidbit was exactly the kind of information Caspian and I had been searching for. Finding and befriending this Melonie had to be our first priority.
We seized our chance the next night. After hours without reappearing, Caspian returned and bade me follow him to the room he had found to be assigned to the servant and her singular task. My hand grasped tightly in his, we slipped down little-used corridors to the small room near the Queen's private receiving chamber, poison vial clutched tight. Caspian, ever the shadow, scanned the dimly lit passageways with his emerald eyes for any sign of danger.
After what felt like an age, we reached Melonie's small chamber. Slipping through the hidden passage Caspian had found earlier, we entered as silent as a phantom on the plush rug within. The room was opulent, draped in silks the color of old blood and furnished with gilded chests and ornately carved chairs that announced her favored status.
There, hunched over a basin, was Melonie, humming softly to herself as she polished the chalice with a cloth as fine as spider silk. The goblet glinted under the candlelight, the rubies catching the flames like drops of captured blood. I watched, mesmerized, as she brushed away dust motes that dared to settle on the obsidian, whispering words I couldn't hear under her breath.
"Melonie," I breathed, my voice barely a rustle.
The woman's head snapped up, eyes wide with shock. Her hand trembled, sending the polishing cloth skittering across the floor. Caspian slipped in beside me, a silent wraith, his hand resting reassuringly on the hilt of the dagger strapped to his thigh.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Melonie gasped, her voice a strangled whisper.
"Friends," I assured her, my voice as smooth as honeyed wine. "Friends who mean you no harm."
Before she could stammer a reply, a booming voice echoed from the corridor. "Melonie! The Queen demands the chalice!"
I cursed inwardly. Time was of the essence. With a swiftness born of desperation, I uncorked the vial, the sickly-sweet scent of nightshade filling the air. Caspian, understanding my unspoken plea, moved like a blur, pinning Melonie's arms behind her back and covering her mouth with a practiced ease that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Stay silent," he hissed, his voice a low growl. "We are not here to hurt you."
With trembling fingers, I dipped the tip of a small dagger Caspian had given me for this purpose into the vial, the dark liquid clinging to the steel like a macabre dewdrop. Then, with a speed that surprised even myself, I reached over Melonie's shoulder and tipped a single drop into the chalice. It landed with a soft plop, sending expanding ripples across the polished surface like a pebble dropped in a golden pond.
The world seemed to hold its breath. For a heartbeat, time itself hung suspended in the heavy air. Then, footsteps rushed toward the chamber door, the rhythmic thud of heavy boots punctuated by the sharp clack of armor.
"Melonie!" a gruff voice bellowed. "Open up immediately if you know what is good for you, girl! The Queen requires her chalice!"
Caspian's eyes met mine, a shared flicker of fear and grim determination passing between us. We had bought ourselves mere moments, seconds snatched from the jaws of fate. But it was enough.
"Say nothing," Caspian growled in the terrified girl's ear, his dagger at her throat. "We will be watching."
With a final, desperate shove, he sent Melonie stumbling toward the door as we moved to hide again behind the tapestry in the shadows where we had entered.
Then, we waited. Waited for the inevitable crash of the door, for the cold steel of Oriana's guards at our throats. Waited for the moment our carefully laid plans unraveled, leaving us exposed and condemned.
And it came. Before Melonie could overcome her fright of Caspian's threat, the door shattered inwards, splinters flying like deadly shrapnel. A hulking brute of a man, scarred and clad in the Queen's livery, charged in, his eyes snapping around the room. Behind him, two more guards stood poised, their blades glinting in the candlelight.
"What's happening? Why is the door locked?" the lead guard roared, his voice shaking the very walls. "Have you done something with the Queen's chalice?"
My heart thundered so loudly I was sure the guards would be able to sense it in our hiding place. A heartbeat in this room would surely be an anomaly they would have to investigate. Caspian spread a big palm over my chest, right over the out-of-control organ, and breathed silent words against my lips. My heart immediately began to slow, and my breaths came more silently as I stared into his bright green eyes in the dark. Finally, I could barely discern the thump-bump in my own ears and my taut muscles slowly unwound.
We waited, frozen, until the booming of the slamming door assured us the guards had departed. Then, a muffled thump, like a sack of forgotten laundry dropped from weary arms met our ears. Peeking around the edge of the tapestry, I saw Melonie huddled on the floor, a crumpled figure against the polished marble. Her sobs, quiet and raw, were the only sound, tiny tremors that pulsed through the heavy air. Her face, pale and streaked with tears, was a mirror reflecting the moonlight and our own gnawing fear. We had danced through darkness, but the melody ended here, leaving her a broken note on the cold stone floor.
Caspian was next to the girl in the blink of an eye. His grip on her arm was like iron as he pulled her to her feet with a sharp jerk that I feared might dislocate her shoulder. His eyes bore into hers with a cold, menacing stare that made even me shiver.
"You will never speak of this to anyone. Not a single word," he growled in a voice that echoed with the deadly tone of the assassin he was when he was not with me.
The terrified girl could only sob uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face in an unrelenting torrent as she nodded in agreement, too petrified to even form words.
My heart began thundering in my ears once again. My voice trembled as I placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Caspian, we must leave."
His fingers gripped the girl's arm tighter, and he gazed menacingly into her eyes before he finally released her. She staggered backward as Caspian and I made our way back to the secret passage.
Our escape was a breathless scramble through the shadows. Each footfall, each whisper in the cramped passageway, echoed like a thunderclap in my pounding heart. Fear, sharp and acrid, clung to the air like the scent of spilled wine. Yet, amidst the panic, a spark of grim satisfaction flickered within me. We had done it. The poison was in the chalice. Oriana's reign of terror would soon be at its end.
Caspian, ever the phantom, led the way, his emerald eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of pursuit. My hand, slick with sweat, clung tightly to his as we navigated the labyrinthine corridors, twisting and turning until even I, with my newfound familiarity with the castle's hidden veins, struggled to remember our course. The air grew thick and stale, laden with the cloying perfume of the unseen gardens we passed beneath, and the musty scent of old blood that clung to the ancient tapestries adorning the walls.
Time stretched and warped, each creak of a floorboard, each whisper of wind through a hidden vent, morphing into the approaching tread of guards, the rasping breath of Oriana's hounds. Finally, we stumbled back into the familiar confines of my chamber, my lungs burning, my legs trembling with exertion.
Caspian bolted the secret passage shut, the heavy thud sending a fresh wave of panic through me. Trapped. We were trapped. The walls seemed to shrink, closing in on us like the grip of a vice. Every nerve in my body screamed for escape, yet I knew there was nowhere to go.
"I do not think we were seen," Caspian declared. "I should have done away with the girl, but we did not have time to hide the body."
A prickle of unease danced across my nape like spiders on silk at the casualness of his words. The assassin's edge, ever honed, ever waiting, had a way of slipping into his unrestrained words, reminding me, with each gruesomely nonchalant revelation, of his true profession. My heart stuttered, caught off guard as always by the predator's glint in his emerald eyes, a flicker that sent shivers down my spine even as my mind spun with the implications of his pronouncement.
"I am glad you did not. Surely, her tongue will be stilled by the threat of the Queen's most treasured Nightblade." I tried to put conviction in my voice, but I wasn't sure I believed my own words. I said a silent prayer to my gods that I was right.
The silence that followed was deafening. It hung heavy in the air, broken only by the erratic hammering of my own heart and our intertwining breaths. Minutes bled into an eternity, each tick of the unseen clock a hammer blow against my fragile hope.
Then, a sound. A distant clang, followed by the rhythmic crunch of boots on stone. The stone floors vibrated under the weight of approaching figures. My blood ran cold. We hadn't escaped. Someone had seen us. But who?
The door of my chamber burst open, shattering the tense silence. Two hulking figures, clad in the obsidian armor of the Queen's Guard, filled the doorway, their faces grim and lined with suspicion. And behind them, the chilling smile of Commander Malachor.
"By order of Queen Oriana!" one of the guards boomed, his voice resonating like a death knell. "You are both under arrest on suspicion of treason. You will be brought before Her Majesty for immediate questioning."
My stomach lurched. Treason. The word hung in the air, heavy and damning. My eyes flickered to Caspian, a silent plea for strength, for a plan. His emerald eyes met mine, a flicker of defiance hardening his jaw.
"What is this about, Malachor?" Caspian asked, ignoring the hulking guards before us and addressing his question directly to the Commander. The steadiness of his voice gave me the strength to stand by his side without shaking. "I knew you had ambitions, but this accusation is beyond the pale."
The Commander's smile twisted into a snarl. "You were seen in the passages leaving our Queen's personal chambers, and a rumor of a plot to poison our Lady has been circulating for days." He glared at Caspian. "It seems we have found the plotters."
Caspian's hand tightened on his sword hilt. I swallowed, trying to calm my traitorous heart.
"We are innocent. We demand an audience with the Queen herself to examine your evidence."
His words hung in the air, a challenge thrown down against the tide of suspicion. The guards exchanged startled glances, their hands tightening reflexively to their own weapons.
"The Queen's time is valuable," Malachor responded, his tone almost bored. "Speak your piece to me quickly or face the consequences."
Caspian took a step forward, his gaze unwavering. "We have information crucial to the safety of the Queen herself," he said, his voice ringing with conviction. "Information that cannot wait. Lead us to her, and we will reveal all."
The guards hesitated as they looked from Caspian to their Commander, their faces etched with doubt. The weight of Caspian's words seemed to hang in the air, a palpable force disrupting the flow of power in the room. For a moment, it felt as if the balance might tip in our favor.
Malachor's lips peeled back, revealing a snarl of malice. "Bring them!" he roared, his voice laced with venom.
As the guards reached for us, Caspian's steely gaze bore into them like hot coals, freezing them in their tracks. Though we were branded traitors, they all knew of Caspian's infamous reputation, and it was enough to stay their hands. With swords at our backs, we were herded like cattle toward the throne room, our fates to be determined by the vampire queen herself.
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